Another One Bites the Dust
by Tsona
Summary: Based on the list 50 Ways to Annoy Lord Voldemort, my fic where each of the Death Eaters is so annoying cheerful, childish, or rude to their lord that he feels severe punishments in order.
1. While the Cat Was Away

_A/N: Okay, so here I am again. And this time with a crazy idea I've left collecting dust in my brain for far too long. I was inspired by a list I lifted from the filing cabinet at Mugglenet headquarters-- 50 Ways to Annoy Lord Voldemort or 50 Ways to Greatly Shorten Your Life-span-- to write a fanfic where all the Death Eaters die from getting on Voldemort's nerves. His point of view. I've added a bit to the list, deleted a lot more, but this should be fun. So away we go!_

_Yours forever, Tsona_

_Newly improved to leave poor old Nott alone and ridicule and destroy someone far more malicious and nauesating._

Things have not been going well since my return to power. The Death Eaters I left behind have changed some. And for the worst. Ever since my return to my body and their return to me, I've been noticing it. It's terrible! It's like I don't know them anymore! Allow me to show you.

Today I was walking along the hallways of my secret headquarters when I was handed a tickle-me-pink flyer by one of the younger Death Eaters. "What's this?" I asked him.

"Mr. Avery told me to hand them out," he replied before moving off.

I looked down at it. It was a notice advertising a play called "Put That Thing Back Where It Came From," to be put on by something known as the Dark Order Company, which I had certain not planned or indeed even known about. Avery was holding auditions in the basement later that day and was asking people to show up and have a song ready. Songs? Plays? I think not!

I tore up the flyer and threw it to the ground in frustration, stamping upon it furiously. I tried pushing it to the back of my brain, hoping that none of my faithful followers would be fool enough to go to these... _auditions_.

I stomped off in the direction of my room, looking to have a bit of a lie-down before our meeting tonight. I was thwarted, however, by Rabastan Lestrange, one of my most faithful; he had braved Azkaban rather than denounce me and the old ways. He threw out his arm and caught me in the chest. I stopped, stunned.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes shining.

"To my room, Lestrange," I replied, my bad mood not yet worn off.

"Wait! Let me announce you," he cried excitedly. He ran off and flung open the door to my private bedroom. He began to play a very fake trumpet, using his hand as his instrument. Then played out a drumroll on an imaginary snare. I had caught up to him by this point. Not looking at me, Rabastan yelled to the empty room, "His majesty, the Dark Lord, Thomas Marvalo Riddle the Second, approaches!"

Then he ran off. I stared after him a moment, entirely perplexed by his childish behavior. Having nothing better to do, I entered my room, and collapsed face-down on the bed, willing my headache away.

I had hardly lain down, however, when my most faithful of all-- Rabastan's sister-in-law, Bellatrix -- entered, singing at the top of her voice. "_I will survive! I will sruvive! I know as long as I know how to love--"_

"_What _do you think you're doing?" I yelled, rounding on her.

She stopped, looking positively cheerful. "Why, practicing for Avery's auditions, My Lord! Aren't you going?"

"No!" I snarled, furious that she would even consider doing such a thing.

"I've always fancied myself an actress," she continued, as though she had not heard me. "Ever since I was two and I saw my very first musical. It was _Sesame Street Live!_ and I loved it!" Her eyes misted over. "Elmo is simply adorable! He's my _idol_! I knew from the moment I first stepped on stage for my first ballet recital that that was where I belonged, on stage! The lights so bright that you can't see a thing, the feel of everyone's eyes on you! Yeah..." she sighed dreamily.

I groaned, sensing a long rant.

"You really should come and try out, you know. I'm sure Avery would give you a part! And I heard about the plot through the grapevine and it sounds absolutely hilarious! It's all about how Avery finds this Muggle child in his closet, which turns out to be an entrance to another world-- much like Diagon Alley is to us or Platform 9 and 3/4 -- and how he tries to get rid of it. Only, it won't go away! And when it's discovered, the company head-- why! you could play him, My Lord!-- anyway, he tries to destroy it and Avery is banished for not telling anyone about the child. But his best friend, whose known about the child all along-- it's one of those beautiful relationships where two people share everything-- he vows to return and save the child. And he does! And everyone lives happily ever after, the end! Isn't that great, My Lord?"

"Yeah," I said unemotionally, stunned that this woman had once been my Number Two. "Listen, I'm tired, I want to rest. Why don't you go practice some more? Maybe Lucius will listen to you for a bit."

"Ooh! Excellent idea, My Lord!" she squealed before scurrying out the door.

At last, peace and quiet. Or so I thought.

There was a small, popping noise and wheezing Amycus Carrow appeared in my room. "Hello," he panted before disappearing again. Good, he's gone. But he wasn't. _Pop_, he was back. "My," and he disappeared. _Pop_ and he was back again. "Lord." Gone. _Pop_, here. "Look." _Pop_, gone. _Pop_, here. "What." _Pop_, gone. _Pop_, here. "I." _Pop_, gone. _Pop_, here. "Can." Gone. Here. "Do."

I tried to say, "That's very nice, Amycus," and tell him to go show someone else, but every time I did, he was gone. And then he was back, and I'd try again. But before the words had even reached my mouth, he had Disapparated. At last, I gave up, groaned, and buried my head beneath my pillow, trying to block out the noises of his Apparations, which were starting to make my already spinning head throb.

No amount of goose down was enough to block out that horrible popping, however. I stood up and stalked out the door, slamming it behind myself and leaving Carrow alone, still Apparating and Disapparating into and out of my bedchamber.

Several corridors along, a group of the young Death Eaters were sitting in front of a makeshift puppet theater. A show was going on. I stopped to watch.

Squinting, I realized that the two finger puppets performing were supposed to be myself and my hated nemesis, Harry Potter. The puppeteer was giving us both horribly squeaky voices.

"Bow, bow to death, Harry," my puppet-self squeaked.

"No, sorry, I don't feel like it," Potter's likeness replied. And he hit my puppet over the head with a minute rolling pin.

I glowered as the assembled children burst into laughter, apparently unaware I was standing right behind them. I cleared my throat and they all spun around on their knees, then gasped.

The puppeteer appeared over the top of his stage. It was Avery. Obviously he hadn't noticed me because he spoke first to the fear-filled children. "What?" he asked. "He's all right and Harry gets away. Isn't that how all these shows end?"

When the children did not respond, he said, "What? What's --" But he had followed the children's shocked gazes and his eyes had just fallen upon myself, looking very unpleasant, I'm sure, as I glared at him in fury.

"Er... puppet show's over, kids," he said uncomfortably, his voice trembling slightly. "Remember the auditions later. Now, be off!"

The children didn't need telling twice. Terrified, they all darted off in different directions, not chancing to look back. Two of them ran straight into one another, fell over, got back, and continued running.

"My Lord!" Avery said jovially, stepping out from behind his theater and, I noticed, quickly stuffing the finger puppets out of sight inside his pocket. "How are you?" he asked, snatching my hand and wringing it furiously.

I quickly pulled it out of his grasp giving him a look of revulsion.

He frowned. "Bad day, eh, My Lord?"

"A little," I replied curtly.

"You know," he said thoughtfully. "You should take a yoga class."

"Yoga?" I repeated stiffly, wondering what it possibly was.

"Yeah... it's all the rage in the Muggle World. All about gaining inner peace and relaxation through physical exercise."

"And _why_ exactly would _I _want to take a yogi class?"

"Yoga," Avery corrected. "I don't know, it might cure you of your evil ways." He shrugged. "Never know, do you? Worth a try, isn't it?"

I glared at him.

"It was just a suggestion," he squeaked hurriedly. "I-- I've got to go... clean out the basement or something." He rushed off, casting one last very edgy glance over his shoulder at me as he retreated.

When he had faded from sight, I put my head in my hand and began trying to massage away my rapidly increasing headache.

_A/N: Hmmmm... I think that may be the end of this chapter. I will try to keep this one in my thoughts. It's so funny; I think it'd kind of hurt to drop it. Anyway, please read and review, friends! Chapter two... auditions and someone bites the dust!_

_Yours forever, Tsona_


	2. They Say Curiosity Killed the Cat, But

_A/N: Officially titled: They Say Curiosisity Killed the Cat, But the Cat Got the Last Laugh. Alas, this one must have fallen behind the desk in my brain, because it's been over a year since I've last worked on it. I did, however, by sheer luck, come across the beginnings of this chapter on a file of a computer I have not used since my too kind parents bought me my own laptop. Let's see if, with that head start, I can make this into anything..._

_Yours forever, Tsona_

I sat for some time afterward huddled in a corner of my dark bedroom, my knees pulled up against my chest, my face hidden in them, willing, entreating, beseeching my pounding headache to ease its wrath.

In the interim, I wondered: what would my idols say if they could see me and my army now? Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, Adolf Hitler-- oh! wait! They're

Muggles! They're certainly no idols of mine. Grindelwald, Sauron, Slytherin... all the other wizard Dark Lords and You-Know-Who's who preceded me.

When the dinner hour struck, the gongs of the carriage clock resounding in my throbbing head, I realized myself hungry and withdrew from the stillness of my chamber to find something to eat.

In wandering toward the kitchens, I passed the entrance to the basement, from which the jarring notes of disco music emanated. My curiosity piqued, I proceeded down the narrow flight of stone steps, sidetracking, the retro beat and cheers increasing in amplitude with each passing moment.

The basement was flooded with people. It appeared that each and every one of my once wicked Death Eaters had appeared for the auditions, which had just

reentered my mind.

Augustus Rookwood was on stage, a follower of old who had been my spy from inside the Ministry of Magic itself, a former Unspeakable in the Department of

Mysteries. He had once been quite a useful. His advice and insight had been invaluable. If someone had told me then that I would later come across the pockmarked man performing the "funky chicken" beneath a gleaming spotlight, I should have Avada Kedavra-ed them for lying. I was utterly revolted. To deepen my feeling of disgust, the spectators seemed to be enjoying it, judging by the squeals of delight, the cheering, and the applause.

The music ended in a quavering note and Rookwood, taking a ridiculously low bow, walked off-stage to renewed cheers. Bellatrix Lestrange replaced him, wearing a dress of crimson sequins, a sight made all the more gruesome because her prolonged stay in Azkaban prison had robbed her of any beauty she might once have been said to have possessed. The music was struck up once more and Bella began her rendition of "I Will Survive."

Had I been less repulsed, I might have broken up their ridiculous and embarrassing auditions. However, my nauseation had glued me in place and was quickly gluing my once-handsome face in a grimace. Heck! I couldn't even _flee_ in this state!

Bellatrix ended her song on a high note and the thunderous applause shook the floor above. She curtsied, giggling girlishly, and pranced off-stage, clearly proud. To my horror, the twisted face of Antonin Dolohov, murderer of the meddlesome Prewetts, peered around the curtain. It appeared to be his turn next and I was petrified, after those last two performances, to think what he might do. He disappeared once more backstage. A few moments later, I heard from behind the curtain an excited, "Oh goody!" Avery followed it into the spotlight.

"Guess what, everyone? I've just been told that our favorite Dark Lord has been spotted!" A flurry of heads all spun around in my direction and I backed away slowly from them all.

"Come on up, my Lord!" Avery called from the stage.

"No," I said firmly. "No, I didn't come to--"

"Ah now, don't be fwrightened wittle Voldie-poo," Bellatrix cooed. "We all did it and survived."

There was a murmured assent from the crowd.

"Easy as stealing candy from a baby," Bellatrix's husband, Roldolphus, agreed. "Although," he added, glaring in my direction, "I suppose _some_ of us have a harder time of that than others."

I snapped, rounding first on the sequin-adorned woman. "What did you call me?!"

Bellatrix seemed to realize she had crossed a line. "Nothing. Nothing, my Lord. I merely meant to--"

"And you!" I snarled, turning on Roldolphus.

Lucius Malfoy, standing beside his sister-in-law, was chuckling. He had his uses; with Rookwood fallen out of favor, he was probably my most useful Ministry spy. He had been able to use money and smooth speeches to cuddle right up to the Minister. I did not anticipate his next words. "Bella is right, my Lord. It's actually rather fun. I was skeptical at first, but--"

"_You_ tried out for this-- this--" I couldn't even grind out the word. It was quickly becoming the most foul word I knew, and I knew plenty, though I use them rarely.

"Play," Lucius informed me calmly. "And yes."

"It turns out Lucius is an excellent impersonator!" Bellatrix piped up.

"An impersonator," I repeated tightly.

Lucius hunched over in a ridiculous, lopsided bow, and dropped his voice to a rasp. "Yes, Master," adding a grotesque heh-heh-ing guffaw.

I glared. He must have felt how dearly I wished to destroy him, for he quickly resumed his usual stance, cleared his throat quietly and muttered, "Well, perhaps another time," not daring to meet my glance. I only wished he had not dared to try out his impersonations on me.

"My Lord!" The voice rang out loud and clear over the Death Eater's heads. I spun to face Avery, where he stood poised on the stage. "My Lord, it really isn't hard."

"_I-- am-- not-- singing_," I ground out through barred teeth. The Death Eaters nearest me were shifting away, looking unnerved. I could hear their whispers circling like the rush of Death.

"You needn't sing, my Lord!"

"_These-- auditions-- are-- over!_"

"My Lord, I'm certain you can do it. You merely need to stop underselling yourself. Think happy thoughts!"

The gale was inside my head now, building. My fingers twitched. The yew wood of my wand was warm against my thigh. But I must not give in. I _needed_ Avery. Didn't I? Not allowed to expel itself through magic, fury made my voice a hoarse shout "Avery, you _imbecile_! _I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS! NOT IN MY HEADQUARTERS! NOT BENEATH MY VERY NOSE!_"

Antonin Dolohov, who had poked his head out from behind the curtains to watch the scene, snorted and wondered, in a very audible whisper, "What nose? All he's got is that gruesome snake snout!"

I rounded on the insolent man. "_You!_" I was too apoplectic now to push any more out.

Avery did not seem to realize this. "You ought not to repress your anger like that, My Lord, I'm always telling you! Let it out!"

This was too much. "Oh," I breathed, "I'll let it out all right." Avery didn't stand a chance. My fingers found the wand so quickly I would have sworn it had leapt into my hand. I whirled it above my head. Avery had hardly the chance to gasp before the flame of green consumed him. The rush of wind died away, leaving me, panting at the back of the room, glaring at the Death Eater spread-eagled on the stage, unmarked but dead.

_A/N: One down. I'll try to, er, get the next chapter up in a more timely fashion than I did this last one. But I can't make promises. I'm off to college in a week and a half. :) Please review, then, and wish me luck._

_Yours forever, Tsona_


	3. Why Can't Life Be All Fun and Games?

_A/N: One more ridiculous chapter for your perusal. Enjoy!_

_Yours forever, Tsona_

There was a taut silence around the poker table that night. The brief, necessary words that did pass between us-- "Fold," and the bets placed by each player-- seemed oddly loud.

Lucius accidentally dealt to the empty seat-- formerly Avery's-- and coughed faintly as he pulled the card back toward him.

"Will you all just say what you want to and get it over with?" I sniffed.

Lucius' grey eyes darted quickly up and then away from my glaring, red eyes. He coughed again. "Well, my lord, I mean to say-- this is all very strange without-- I mean--"

His wife, Narcissa, lay a gentling hand on his arm and her blue eyes caught mine instead. "What he means to say is, my lord, that we rather wonder what drove you to--" the next word came out quite quietly, her eyes darting quickly away, into a corner, around the room "--_kill_ Avery."

"He was bothering me." I peered down at the cards in my long fingers. Two of clubs, two of spades, four of hearts, six of hearts, and a seven of spades. I'd rarely seen a worse hand. My fist clenched around the cards. The corners of my mouth and my bald eyebrow ridges sank.

Lucius across the table smirked, looking over his cards at me.

I played for time. "You all think I have it so easy, sitting here in my hideout, handing out orders. None of you realize what you put me through. You don't realize how rough I've had it, what I had to overcome to get where I am!"

Narcissa gave a soft, sympathetic moan.

"I imagine you did have it rough in school, didn't you?" Antonin Dolohov sniggered. "I mean, really, _Marvolo_? What _is_ that? A dish detergent?"

I glared at him. "It was my grandfather's name. A Gaunt, one of the last families to bear the blood of the great Salazar--"

"And your face!" Dolohov brayed, as though he'd not heard a word. "I mean," his eyes narrowed, malicious, "did you _ever_ have a girlfriend? _Ever?_"

"I used to be quite handsome, you know. There were many women who would have gladly-- who did--"

"Honestly, you looked better _under_ the turban. And what was with using Quirrell anyway? I mean, really. I thought you looked for strength, for magical talent, for _something_ of value in your followers? I would have thought for a host-- I mean, the man was a--"

"If you had come yourself--"

"I was in Azkaban, doing time for being in your service."

Lucius cleared his throat and laid down his hand: a straight flush. Reluctantly, I and the other Death Eaters put ours down on the table. Lucius dragged the few galleons in the table's center, glittering golden by the candles' flames, toward him. He dealt the cards again, carefully avoiding Avery's empty chair.

Mine was another bad hand. "And then there's all the trouble I go through, all the plots you've all let be foiled."

Narcissa made that moan again and I began to suspect it was rather mocking, particularly when she smiled at me when my glare caught her eyes, withdrew her wand and, twirling it, produced a large bouquet of flowers, which she tried to hand me. I withdrew my hands, threw them up, palms out with a grimace of disgust.

"With my condolences, Tommy-boy," she giggled.

I snarled and glared from her to Lucius.

"You're breakin' my little heart here, lord," he agreed. "Bad hand again?"

"What?"

Lucius sighed. "You have no poker face. How you ever expect to rule the world without one-- And what's with this tactic of stalling when you don't want to show us your cards? Honestly."

"Whatever does a poker face have to do with my ruling the world?"

Lucius said slowly, clearly, as though speaking to a dimwitted child, "My lord, at least half of ruling is impression. You've got to look cool under pressure. In fact, you have to look collected all the time."

"What would you know about it?" I snarled.

"Here. Try this." He leaned back in his chair so that it was resting with its two front legs off the ground and put the tips of his fingers together beneath his pointed chin. "Eeeeexcellent," he said, with the merest hint of a laugh beneath the purr.

I cocked a bald eyebrow at him. "What is that supposed to do?"

Lucius let the legs of the chair fall back to the ground. "It's a gesture you can use, say, when you've got Potter cornered, or lying on the ground before you. Whenever he happens to be at your mercy. It gives the impression of your enjoying his pain, but not needing to rush his downfall, because that would make you impatient, desperate, and uncool."

"You've been trying to understand your son again, haven't you, Lucius? Ow!"

My arm smarted and I glared at Amycus Carrow. He was sitting next to me, his lumpy face screwed up into what he clearly thought was an innocent expression. Yet, I saw his hand sneak away beneath the table.

"Mosquito," he said simply. His hand came flying up and back again and before I could duck, he had struck my shoulder. "Nasty little buggers, aren't they? But I got it. Ooh!"

He pulled back his arm for another swing, but I leapt up from my seat out of the way. "You know what, I think I've had enough of poker for tonight."

Lucius nodded. "All right. My lord, are you coming to play practice tomorrow? We saved you a part."

"I killed Avery. There will be no play."

Lucius cut his eyes sideways.

"Oh no," I groaned.

"I was elected to take over as director, my lord. I couldn't let my fellow Death Eaters down, now, could I?"

"Lucius!"

"He's also got the lead role!" Narcissa said, beaming at her husband.

"If you touch a Muggle child I'm going to have to kill you," I warned, quite certain I was not joking.

"Oh! my lord! Don't be ridiculous! I got that part!"

"Well, I suppose--"

"And I'm the undercover agent who helps to rescue her!" Bella interrupted. "Isn't that wonderful, my lord? I _finally_ get to be a stage actress!"

"She's been wanting to ever since Mum and Dad took us to see _Sesame Street Live_."

"People really loved my solo! And I owe it all to you. If you hadn't told me to go and practice for Lucius-- Please come tomorrow, my lord. I'd love to work for you onstage as well as off."

She batted her mist-grey eyes at me beneath the too much mascara and iron-grey eye shadow she wore and I only just managed to swallow down another grimace of disgust.

"No... I really don't think... I have some very important evil plans that..."

"Why? They always fail anyway," Carrow wheezed. "You know, sometimes I think you'll be the _only_ one who doesn't triumph somehow in the end of all this..."

I glared at him. "Did you say you _think_?"

Dolohov chuckled.

"As much as I hate to agree with Amycus, my lord--" my eyes spun round to pin Lucius instead "--he may have a point. Do you not perhaps obsess _too_ much over these evil plans?" he asked delicately. "I mean, really, if you're whole happiness and life's meaning depends on Harry Potter's death and the submission of Wizarding world... Maybe it's time for you to try E.O.A."

" 'E.O.A.?' "

"Evil Overlords Anonymous, yes. Twelve baby steps to overcoming your obsession with world domination. Or, I think that was the tag line..."

"You're telling me such a group exists?"

"I believe so, yes. Does that mean you're interested? Would you like me to dig up the pamphlets for you?"

I restrained myself from telling Lucius exactly what he could do with his pamphlets. "Why would _you_ be receiving these, Lucius?" I asked instead.

"I frankly don't know, my lord," he answered lightly enough. "I wondered if it was a blanket owl posting, but apparently they missed those whom really needed it."

"Perhaps your tailor put you on a list," Narcissa suggested. "You do wear a lot of black."

"Not all evil overlords wear black, dear."

"Okay," I interrupted, not willing to stay for a lengthy discussion of Lucius' wardrobe choices. "Well, no. I'm not interested. I have no problem and need no therapy."

The Malfoys exchanged a quick glance, seemed to be biting back the same word.

"What?" I demanded.

"Denial, my lord," Lucius said quietly.

"Oh!" I threw my hands into the air, spinning away from them all in a fury. I had the feeling that if I stayed in the room a moment longer I would be very much in danger of losing my temper and a second Death Eater in a single day. Already my fingers were beginning to tingle in anticipation of the beloved curse.

I leapt with a screech before I had gone more than a few steps and snapped a hand to my arm. I spun around to face Amycus Carrow's ugly, lumpy face. He hitched that wholly unconvincing expression of innocence onto it as he withdrew his fingers, which had a moment before been pinching me. "Ant," he said blithely.

I roared and my hand leapt for my pocket. The wand slashed through the air and green light briefly illuminated the pits and hillocks of the man's astonished face before the whooshing air ceased and Carrow too fell dead at my feet.

I looked from his blank eyes to my wand and shrugged. I pocketed the weapon and strode from the room, but was not out of earshot when Lucius sighed, "I think we're going to need a new henchman for that play..."

Bellatrix murmured, "I think Voldy-poo's a bit out of sorts, don't you?"

"Yes, I rather do," Narcissa whispered back to her sister. "I wonder... Do you think..."

At last, I was out of range and needn't hear whatever cockamamy suggestion Narcissa had. With any luck, I might avoid ever finding out. As I shut myself in my room, slamming home the dead bolt, I rather doubted it, however.

_A/N: Two down... I've discovered I need to write before sleeping and that it doesn't particularly matter what I write. This is a wonderful option when I don't particularly feel like doing anything serious. Even so, I have to wonder... with the closing of DH and the introduction of more of the Death Eaters into Death Eaters Don't Cry (another longer, dramatic fanfiction of mine), I don't feel particularly as though this ficlet is really necessary. Do I need to be ridiculing the dead, evil or no? So, I think this ficlet has taken on meaning only as an outlet for complete ridiculousness-- this chapter came surprisingly easily-- and as my readers request it. So with that in mind, please review and let me know whether you think I ought to continue this or leave it as is or delete it entirely. It's purpose may have been fulfilled... Thank you, kind readers! _

_Yours forever, Tsona_


End file.
